


Tell Me You Love Me

by Duddits



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode: s03e08 As You Were, F/M, Fix-It, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duddits/pseuds/Duddits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set around the events of As You Were. A slightly longer look at what happened between Buffy asking Spike to tell her he loved her and Riley walking in. Bit of a fix it fic. Will eventually have a second chapter, but can be read as a stand alone character drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> Only the second story I've ever written, so be gentle. Had a plot bunny for a while with this one.  
> All mistakes are mine, please let me know if you spot any.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, you know I do.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I always want you. Point of fact…”

“Shut up.”

A flicker of confusion swept Spike’s face as Buffy reached out to wrap an arm around his neck, her weight bearing them both down onto the hard surface of the sarcophagus. She pulled him down on top of her, his weight holding her hips against the sheets as she began undoing his shirt buttons.

His raised eyebrow was a silent question. It was an expression he wore often when she came to him; when she wanted him, would writhe against him, but wouldn’t let him speak to her. Would allow him to do all manner of things to her when she was in the throes of passion, but wouldn’t allow him to touch her after they were done. Buffy knew it hurt him when he reached for her afterwards and she pushed him away. After a while, she realised, he’d stopped reaching.

She’d seen his surprise when she asked him to tell her he loved her. It had never been something she’d been willing to hear before, not something she’d wanted to believe. It had scared the hell out of her at the beginning, but since she’d come back, she’d been able to tune it out. Feel ambivalent about it; numb. It had meant he was convenient, compliant.

Sometimes he would whisper it to her when they were pressed together, skin to skin. He’d murmur it into her ear, against her skin, into the hollows of her hips. She’d never let it pass. There were always admonishments, a harsh word or a scrape of nails. She never wanted to pretend that it was about love; it was always a dirty secret.

She felt Spike’s fingers brush her stomach as he undid her buttons, drawing the fabric across her skin; slowly, gently. He did this, sometimes; drew it out when he could, took as much of her as she would let him. No more. Always her pace, always her limits. She knew this, of course, but she’d never questioned it. It was why she kept coming back.

She knew why she was here this time. Seeing what Riley and Sam had together, how they were. It seemed so easy between them; they didn’t struggle with each other. Casual affection, warm glances. Buffy knew that even when it was good with her and Riley, it had never been like that. It had always been an effort. They’d always had to _try_.

She knew Riley had loved her, he’d told her often enough, but it never touched her. She’d never _felt_ it when he said it and she’d never said it back. Then Angel, god, what a disaster that had been; the first great love of her life. The words had felt tainted after that, after what loving him had led to.

And then there was Spike.

Her fingers smoothed up the fabric at Spike’s shoulders, took hold of the open collar of his shirt and pulled his head down. She could feel his unnecessary breath flutter across her face, and she looked at him. Let her gaze linger on his questioning eyes, his long eyelashes, the curve of his ridiculous mouth. Slowly, she raised her head and brushed her lips across his. She felt his shudder, his stuttering inhale.

He started moving again, undoing the rest of her buttons with one hand while the other slipped beneath her back, holding her tightly against him as he rocked his hips against hers.

Buffy slid her hand up to the base of his neck, burying the tips of her fingers in his hair. She gently scraped her nails across his scalp as she continued to kiss him. She didn’t stop when she felt him remove his shirt, or when she heard the clink of his belt buckle and felt his jeans slide to the floor. When he lifted his head to remove her trousers, she kissed along his jaw line, down his neck, along his collarbone. Any patch of skin that came within range of her mouth she laved attention on; gently using her teeth to nibble his ear as he settled his weight back on to her.

It had always been easy when it was fast and hard. No time to stop and think about it, no need to let him take control when she could get what she wanted on her own terms. She didn’t want that this time. She didn’t want to forget where she was, or who she was with. She’d come here for a reason; she’d come here for _him_ , because he loved her. Unconditionally. Easily.

She felt him looking at her, and raised her eyes until they met. She could feel the question burning behind his eyes. This was new territory, unprecedented, untested. Usually he’d start out like this and she would kick him into touch. Grab his hips, tear his shirt, bite his lips. Goad him until he threw her against a wall, onto a hard floor and had at her until she could forget where she was.

But she was here. She’d asked him to tell her because she needed to hear it, and now, she needed to _feel_ it.

She kissed his lips, drew her tongue slowly along the seam and dipped inside when he opened on a breath. She rocked her pelvis against him; let her leg fall open so that he could fit himself into the cradle of her hips.

Without breaking eye contact he ran his hands along the smooth skin of Buffy’s arms, gently raising them above her head and pressing them into the cool fabric of the sheet. She knew he was looking at her for consent, sure that he was heading for rejection, for her to realise this was a glitch and kick him away. She sighed against him, raising her head and brushing her cheek against the hard edge of his jaw.

“Spike, please.” She whispered against his cheek.

She felt his head snap backwards, his blue eyes scrutinizing hers. A slow, indulgent smile settled on her lips and she inclined her head, letting him read her face.

“Buffy.” He breathed her name across her lips, his tone low, reverential.

He didn’t ask what had brought about this sudden change, just smiled, lowered his head to give her another kiss. This one deeper, more assured. He kissed down her jaw, along her neck, stopped to draw his blunt human teeth across a vein.

Buffy tipped her head back and let him explore. Let him set the pace. He swept his hands over her curves, along her stomach, down her legs. He traced random patterns on her with his lips, buried his face in her neck and breathed her in as he rocked against her. He slid his arms under her back and held him against her, as tight as she could bear. She could feel his smile against her skin.

Afterwards, she lay beside him watching him sleep, chest rising and falling with his breathing. She didn’t see it often. He looked so different asleep, his usual expression of surly nonchalance was missing and he looked younger, more vulnerable. She’d slept beside him the first time, after they’d brought the house down, but that had been exhaustion rather than affection and she’d escaped as soon as she’d realised. With their more recent encounters the sweat was often still cooling on her skin as she grabbed her clothes and ran from him, Spike’s eyes boring holes into her back.

Not feeling compelled to run from her spot beside the vampire for once, she noticed that even in sleep Spike daren’t shatter their fragile truce by reaching for her. He’d almost smothered her when they had sex, but now he was a careful distance from her. His arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

Content, Buffy settled on her back and fell into a shallow sleep, limbs still heavy and sated.

It was an indeterminate amount of time later that she heard the crypt door slam open, felt Spike’s muscles tense as he sat up and watched his expression change as they realised who had marched in.


End file.
